Gotham Diary:
Rumination
29 November 2011

Beware Rumination. This is one of the lessons that David Brooks is abstracting from the “Life Reports” that he recently solicited from readers over the age of 70. Forget what Socrates said about the unexamined life in Plato’s Apology.

Beware rumination. There were many long, detailed essays by people who are experts at self-examination. They could finely calibrate each passing emotion. But these people often did not lead the happiest or most fulfilling lives. It’s not only that they were driven to introspection by bad events. Through self-obsession, they seemed to reinforce the very emotions, thoughts and habits they were trying to escape.

Many of the most impressive people, on the other hand, were strategic self-deceivers. When something bad was done to them, they forgot it, forgave it or were grateful for it. When it comes to self-narratives, honesty may not be the best policy.

I’m inclined, against my better judgment, to agree. But I resist. Psychopaths, remember, are unsurpassed at strategic self-deception. And I’m not sure that it’s dishonest to forgive and forget.

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Perhaps I’m missing Brooks’s point, and perhaps I’m missing it because he wrote rumination instead of nursing grudges. I don’t know where anybody finds the time or the taste for stewing over slights. I find it unpleasant to think ill of people, and so I distance myself from those who give rise to such thoughts. I keep away from them if they’re still around, and I forget about them if they’re gone. I suppose I have an unusual degree of freedom in this regard, but I take full advantage of it.

It occurred to me, on vacation, that I have two modes of self-evaluation. We’ll call them the sunny and the cloudy. The sunny mode is prompted by good feelings, and it moves me to give thanks for all the positive things that have happened to me, as well as all the advantages that I’ve enjoyed. I think I’m very lucky, in sunny mode. In cloudy mode, I feel responsible. The cloudy mode takes over when I’m not feeling good about myself or about the way things are going (the same thing, as it usually happens). It is obvious to me that I could do better, and I’m ashamed of having done worse. The result is that I take credit only for my faults, and this means that I can’t offset them with my virtues, because the virtues aren’t mine in the same way that the faults are. I’m talking about a habit of mind, not a logical process. It’s clearly illogical. But I think that it’s a healthy way of living.

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